Two Little Birds
by Manta Rayz
Summary: Jack plus Elisabeth equals Jasabeth! Two Little Birds is a drabble of oneshots and stories that I never quite finished concerning the greatest Ship that ever sailed a pirate ship.
1. Chapter 1

**Two Little Birds**  
Which is Basically About How Love is Full of Bizarre and Annoying Surprises

**-------V-------**

"_Look at all this money!"_

"_I wonder who owns it…" _

"_Who _cares_? All we know now is that we're filthy bitch!" _

"_That's _rich_…" _

—Mugen & Fuu (Samurai Champloo)

**--------V--------**

_Blasted compass… _

The gangly, scarlet arrow began churning awkwardly, as if uncertain, a rusty scratching noise issuing forth to remind her of its old age. At first the magical contraption (because there was no other word Elizabeth could describe a compass that pointed to its wielder's utmost desires) pointed to one resolute direction—the direction to which she was _certain_ led her to the one thing she desired more than anything in the world, towards the island upon which the Dead Man's Chest lay hidden and with it the solution to her dear William's freedom—but then it recoiled to another, as though cringing away from it's first, and finally stopping to a vague, and yet all together unmistakable path.

It was broken.

The bloody thing was _broken_, she realized, her brows furrowed as anger churned and bubbled within the bottom of her stomach.

And it was that blunder of _Captain Jack Sparrow_ to blame. Then again, he did not look the type to be so careful with his effects—with the exception of the Black Pearl, himself, and that absolute vile liquor she knew as rum, which seemed totting up to the only three assets that the ruddy pirate could ever love and show genuine affection for. Elizabeth seethed at the thought.

Her anger, however, suddenly froze into that of pure horror, hovering dangerously above her heart before crashing down into the pit of her stomach in an atmosphere of blood-draining dread. That feeling, that one _horrible_ sensation so briefly had passed through her. But it was not—she knew, in fact she was _assured_—it was most certainly _not_ jealously. And over inanimate objects? Over a_ ship_?

Who bloody cared just what and _who_ that travesty of a captain cared for? _She_ certainly didn't.

Sinking her head between her shoulders in disdain, and almost revulsion, she stared at the supposedly mystic compass for a moment longer. Her lips were set in a concentrated frown, glaring down upon the trinket almost as though willing its indecisive arrow to change course before, finally, she decided to glance upon the curious direction it had chosen with a deepening frown.

Behind her was the Captain's Chambers, but she'd daresay she had ever desired anything of use in there, much less her true heart's desire. The arrow centered awkwardly upon a diagonal direction behind her, almost leftward. She glanced towards it briefly, narrowing down to the helm just above the Captain's Chambers, but all that was before her was Captain Jack Sparrow looking out into the horizon, the wind fingering his already-tousled dreadlocks of hair and his hand over his eyes to shield them from the rays of the sun, his chest puffed up in resolve as if in a cheap attempt at masculinity.

Elizabeth quickly dismissed it as nothing, snorting at Jack's ridiculous posture, deciding quickly that she found absolutely nothing behind the drunkard but miles upon miles of twinkling ocean, and furiously looked down again at the arrow. It stubbornly remained at that same course.

Minutes passed.

At last, something hit her square in the head—not literally, but it might have bloody well done so.

Just as quickly, she whipped back to that very course in a double-take that nearly cost her whiplash. Jack remained in his theatrical pose, as though he knew very well that she was staring at him and gave, in what she could only assume with an annoyed roll of her eyes, was what Jack fancied as an enthralling impression to woo her. Her look of shock quickly dissolved to be replaced with haughtiness, but she stubbornly returned to the compass and strode forward—and, most importantly, much farther away from the insufferable dreadlocked pirate.

Now she was most _certain_ that it was broken.

Of all possible directions, of all possible worldly desire's to be desired upon _more than anything else in the world_, it pointed only to a man—nay, a _pirate_. And not just any pirate, mind you. Oh no—it rolled and obnoxiously _remained_ towards _the _Jack Sparrow.

Sorry—_Captain_ Jack Sparrow.

She could not stand that cheeky slip of a brute, and yet it pointed towards him so often she was ready to toss the godforsaken item overboard with all her might and frustration combined.

This was not happening. This couldn't possibly happen to her. She seethed, and concentrated hard—concentrated with a moderate amount of willpower on restraining herself from turning around to take in the overwhelming sight of the Captain, and seize another long, long look. It was most difficult, seeing as the compass seemed to force her to stare between fleeting moments where Jack Sparrow seemed too busy to notice.

She bristled, angry with herself. Whiney.

_Oh, Will… _

Wasn't he the only reason for her being aboard such a legendary _pirate_ ship, bunking with a bunch of _pirates_, and risking her very life to find the accursed _pirate_ 'Chest that would surely set him free? Hadn't that been the reason for her parading about in men's clothing, stowing away from ship to ship, fooling simpleton's into believing in the clairvoyant, and traveling through the wild streets of the _pirate_-playground known as Isla Tortuga? How can that not prove that Will was what she desired more than anything in the world? If that was not an impulsive act of love, then she was sure there was no such thing as love at all…

Or had it been something else that drove her to act upon her blatant impulse?

Any sensible woman would keep to her quiet dignity and wait for the trouble to pass, to take the opportunity to ride in a ship and head safely toward England as her dear father had wished. A_ lady_ was certainly not impulsive, and did not act upon instinct at all…

And yet…

She was not a lady.

Elizabeth studied herself, and the past actions and choices she had made during the prior months. She was in a pirate ship, with pirates, dressed as a male pirate, a shoddy tricorn hat carelessly nested atop her head, and a pistol and rapier firmly clinging to her waist as though it were all she had left in the world to be proud of…

But it was all to save _Will_, she reminded herself. It was the entire reason why she had to reduce herself to such drastic conditions…

And yet the more she stole glimpses of him, just fleeting stares, the more she feared that she believed the compass was in fact very much functional. But it was in the back of her mind, hidden in the dark and pulsating like the very bloody heart that lay dormant in the sad prison that was the Dead Man's Chest, frightening her with its writhing life.

Elizabeth carefully looked over her shoulder, her movements deliberate and especially slow, like a bashfully careful doe. But Jack was no longer looking into the horizon. He was looking straight into her, his deep chocolate-hued eyes piercing her like a blade, cutting through her clothes, flesh, and bones until it finally touched her soul. She felt completely naked under his stare.

Jack grinned, as though he had read her thoughts. Elizabeth stared helplessly. That effortless grin flaunted the dazzling array of his golden-and-white teeth, and it was a knowing grin—taunting her, telling her that she had lost a part of herself to him and there was absolutely no way to take it back. Her heart lurched blissfully.

It was all his fault indeed…


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Little Birds**  
Which clarifies just how homesick people _don't_ get when they're in love, explaining the whole "_Home is Where the Heart is_"...or something.

**--------V--------**

"_You cheated…!"_

"_Pirate."_

Will Turner & Capt. Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl)

**--------V--------**

The sky resembled a colossal sapphire canvas, never-ending and dotted with massive puffy white wisps of vapor that absorbed the setting sunlight like a sponge, reflecting its warm colors like jagged white crystals. The unbounded sea was consumed in shadow, a deep blue, so deep it might have well been black, the balmy milieu blending in with the hauntingly dark sails of the _Black Pearl_. Colorful hues of dusk streaked across the sky carelessly, smoldering like coals in the dark. And the sea's placid surface served as a living mirror, emulating the sky so that it was almost impossible to determine what was heaven or earth.

Elizabeth took in the smell of the sea, a pungent aroma of raw fish, seaweed, and salt fusing together to be caught within the firm grip of the wind. With it mingled the fresh scent of bittersweet rust-colored rum, and the faded trace of East India Trading Company spices. She had become so accustomed to the exotic fragrance of the sea. The feeling of regret lingered at the end of her thoughts, knowing she was never to draw in the scents again, never to feel the swaying floorboards of the _'Pearl _beneath her feet, to stand at the helm and take in the sight of the ocean illuminated by sunlight glistening over the dark watery surface as though they were as everlasting as the stars at night…

"Brooding, luv?"

Impulsively, her fingers closed around the railing of the ship's balustrade at the sudden disembodied voice. Elizabeth turned slightly to regard her new company, even when she had no reason to. She knew to whom it belonged to the moment her ears found the accent, its throaty vibrations oozing into her ears as her knees felt weak, and she could only feel warm at the effortless and husky resonance lacing over its slurred English drawl. She would never forget his voice. It had been the lullaby of her dreams for far too long.

_Jack..._

The question was, however, how long had he been there?

"My _sincerest_ apologies, if I do not appear quite dead enough for you," Jack ambled drawlingly, waving one hand in the air in a manner most pretentious as he took another theatrical stagger towards her. Elizabeth snorted, her lips pulling back in a seemingly revolted grimace. And yet, she did not step away as he situated himself beside her, placing his palms over the railing as if for support, his callused hands just barely brushing hers. But still she remained. He leaned foreword carelessly, almost curiously, and gazed out into the dusky horizon.

The scent of him wafted over her, overpowering her with its sweetly intoxicating and unforgettable essence. The smell of the sea, East India spices, bittersweet rum, and even the damp whiff of the _'Peal_ seemed to heighten tenfold at his presence. Elizabeth dazedly wondered if it had been him that had induced the exotic aromas she had been taking in all along.

A dirty bottle of rum was offered to her abruptly, almost shoved before her face, and her thoughts vanished like the morning mist upon the shore of a beach. She could make out the glint of the thick, golden opal rings that decorated Jack's tanned fingers as they loosely closed themselves over the bottle's stubby narrow neck. She gawked at him, and then at the bottle, before returning to gawk at him yet again, her mouth slightly agape in repulsion, astonished that he'd even gesture of such a thing. He only grinned up at her in return, tempting her with that one devious stretch of his lips. His eyelashes fluttered innocently in an impression that held no affect but to have him appear more ridiculous than he already was.

She whipped around and turned away to face him with rather impressive velocity, her brows drawn together in a reprimanding gesture. "I can not _believe_ you would suggest that I indulge myself in your _revolting _recreational drugs at a time like this!" She grated, the mention of alcohol sounding unholy upon her tongue, though she was unable to fully glare at him. There was something there, when she looked into his face, which prevented her from entirely hating him for some reason. And this doubtless aggravated her.

His elbows now resting effortlessly against the railing, his back to the ship's balustrade, he merely smiled up at her. "What better time than this, luv?" He withdrew from the balustrade and walked up to her with those long sluggish strides, "The _'Pearl_ is heading towards Port Royal, and you're brooding, knowing full well that you'd miss this wayward playground of a life as much as—well, _me_. And I'd say that be as good as any a time to drown your misery in tasteful liquor." He chanced another grin, even as she glared at him, gallantly stepping closer. "I'm merely acting as a… condolence, as it were."

"How can you_ say_ that?"

"How can I _not_?"

"I left you there to _die_!" Elizabeth blurted in the midst of her impending frustration. "I—I left you to die! I tried to make you bloody _Kraken_ food and yet _still_ you manage to treat me as though it had never occurred at all! What is wrong with you? Jack? _Answer me now_!" Her face was flushed, and she glowered at the fond smile he gave her. "I had _no _regrets whatsoever…" Her body bristled, her shoulders shuddering with the need to weep before him. To apologize. To beg the forgiveness of a bloody pirate…

_Why?_

She had meant every word she said! _Every word_! She wanted to cry—to scream out why in the name of God did she want so badly to apologize to him, to _kiss_ him, to praise the lord that he was alive and well again and still his peculiar old self. Still the same old, beautiful Captain Jack Sparrow.

He said one word. Merely one word. And she felt as though she had been doused with cold water.

"Pirate."

She glared at him, and it seemed that all the hatred in the world was put into that one ugly expression. "I hate you…"

"Of course you do."

"I _hate _you!" Elizabeth repeated, frustrated with the fact that he seemed so confident, frightened with the fact that he just may be absolutely right regarding her feelings. She didn't know. She didn't _want_ to know.

Elizabeth lunged foreword, her fists rapping vigorously against his chest. "You tossed Will, my own _fiancé_, to Davey Jones just to save your own measly, _pompous_, good for nothing life! You recruited ninety-nine more innocent crewmen to toss into Davey's bloody locker in exchange for your freedom! You—you _lied _to me!" She began to simmer down, gradually, her fists aching at having punched a rather solid chest. At last, her movement slumped all together. She was almost limp in his embrace. "You…lied to me…"

"Yes…I do that on a number of occasions, but everyone still manages to seem surprised."

Elizabeth rested her forehead against him, feeling the tingling purr of his chest rising and falling with each intake of breath. It soothed her, and she was far too tired to ague otherwise. She was tired of hating him; it simply took too much painful effort. The pain was like restraining heart-wrenching sobs, the exertion causing her head to throb bewilderingly.

Jack embraced the young woman in his arms more out of habit than anything else.

"I was so frightened," Elizabeth moaned into his chemise, closing her fingers around the front of his faded vest, clutching it to her so desperately.

"Frightened, luv? You? Nay, I am certain you are quite far from the damsel in distress."

Elizabeth shifted, and gazed up at him. "Frightened of _you_," she concluded solemnly, and it almost hurt to see Jack's grinning face deflate to some extent.

"Aye, me…" He began slowly, bewilderingly, deciding that he was not fond of the taste of those words that awkwardly rolled off his tongue. "And…why, once more, am I taken as such?"

"Because…" Elizabeth sniffed, looking up at him through her long lashes with an almost irresistible adorableness.

"Because…?" Jack coaxed, frowning faintly, resisting the urge to snog her uncontrollably.

"Because I was afraid I was…in love with you…" Elizabeth shuddered blatantly, and Jack pouted. "Because…because I believed that I had all I ever wanted! My life of leisure, my father's undying affection—oh, my loving, _devoted_ William. Even when he confronted me about the kiss—"

"Hold on luv… kiss? _The_ kiss? The _cuffing-me-to-a-pole-and-leaving-me-to-**die**_ kiss?" Jack glanced around almost tensely, as though expecting that the blacksmith William Turner was readily lurking in the shadows with a pistol in his hand aimed to kill, whereas Elizabeth was simply an accomplice to hold him down so he attained no escape whatsoever. No sensible man would think his paranoia strange—Elizabeth was, after all, a pirate strumpet, and pirates were very creative in the act of mutiny. He should know, for this was certainly not the first time. And then there was the fact that she had tried to kill him before…

"He still sought out to find you, even to the ends of the Earth and back again…" Elizabeth continued, hardly even noticing Jack had spoken at all.

Jack's resolve softened tremendously. "He truly loves you, doesn't he…?" He straightened, "Good man, that Will. Like his father…"

"Wasn't it my fate all along? Wasn't I born into nobility? Wasn't I meant to live forever on land, knitting and nursing my own children like any sensible lady would? I should be married! I should bare grandchildren to my poor father! Oh, my _father_!" She moaned miserably at the memory of her father—her loving, hopeful father as he readied himself to walk down the aisle with his arm linked with his daughter's, who was to wed a more than capable young man who loved her dearly and was absolutely no trouble at all—but that was before they had been imprisoned with the crime of allowing an infamous pirate free to ravage the Caribbean, before she fell in love with said infamous pirate, before she was here in the arms of Jack Sparrow. Moaning again, she buried her face into Jack's chest furiously, nearly causing the pirate captain to topple over. "I was not meant to fall in love with a bloody _pirate_!" She grumbled sulkily.

"Um, yes, that's…well, it's not all bad, luv." Jack drew his brows together in a definite crease, ill at ease, his lips set in an awkward half-pout half-grimace. Did she even realize that he, Captain Jack Sparrow, was the very pirate of notoriety to whom she so miserably spoke of? Surely she wanted him as much as he wanted her—and he wanted her very, very badly to be quite naked and willing to bed with him.

"Oh but it _is_!" Elizabeth retorted angrily, her voice shrill and tearful, and the utter distraught in her tone almost convinced Jack himself. He was excluded from his freedom of consideration at once; his brows were raised in slight astonishment, affronted by her blatant woe, the corner of his lips sinking into a small down-turned U-shaped frown.

And then, "It truly will be the end of m—" Elizabeth could speak no more. How could she, her lips smothered by Jack's in an overwhelmingly heated passion she never thought in all her life she would ever experience?

Just as she began to helplessly respond, shifting her face as if she couldn't decide where to put her lips first, as if his mouth was painfully not enough, he pulled away and grinned. "I told you," He began simply, "It's not _all _bad." His grinned broadened handsomely, as if a truly wicked inspiration had just crossed his mind. "Now, wait till I have you in my chambers, _and then_ we may define the proper concept of…_bad_."

"You speak as though you are certain that I will have you…" She cooed suspiciously. Yet even as she spoke, Elizabeth released a gentle laugh. It couldn't be helped, really, no matter how the guilt stung her at loving another man.

Jack gave a sly chuckle of his own. "Oh no, luv, it is _I_ that shall certainly have _you_." And when Jack's gaze naturally fell upon her youthful face in regard, her smile was magic, and its alluring spell pulled back the corner of his lips in an honest grin. Her hazel-colored, fathomless eyes twinkled at him in a sort of fondness, and yet they shone with a hint of indecision as if to say: 'oh, what am I to do with you?'

"I suggest you tie me to the helm and have your nasty with me. That indeed would be an unambiguous answer to what to do with me," Jack grinned wolfishly, his brows wriggling suggestively so that Elizabeth herself felt overwhelmingly tempted.

"Jack!" She reprimanded, even as the possibilities found their way into her thoughts in overflowing, colorful currents. She blushed and took a step back, and his arms withdrew with ease as if unconcerned, knowing she would only crave for more of his more than capable touch.

Immediately missing his warmth, but cautious of his intentions—seeing as he was indeed Captain Jack Sparrow, the acclaimed pirate womanizer that was slapped by just about every wench in Tortuga and beyond—she glowered halfheartedly.

"Run away with me, luv..." Jack murmured, embracing her.

"It's all I've ever wanted, Jack..." Elizabeth conceded, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. "And all I could never have."

Jack slumped over, unconscious, dead, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that he was gone. And it was her fault.

**"Elizabeth?" **

**Elizabeth stirred, whimpering. **

**Will frowned, his hand over his beloved's shoulder. She had been the first to fall alseep during their first night in Tia Dalma's shack, and tears had been falling down her face since. It had been at that point in time, as he watched her in so much pain even under a deep slumber, that he had realized that he still loved her. He couldn't stay mad at the woman he had loved since childhood. How could he? It would all be in vain if he just hated her now. **

**"Elizabeth," he murmured soothingly, "Wake up. We are to leave for Nassau by dawn. We must prepare..." His breath stopped amidst his throught as Elizabeth's teary eyes fluttered open. **

**"I killed him..." **

**Will's brows drew together. "What?" **

_**--**_

_**--**_

**Author's Note:** And then they start having this conversation yada yada blah blah she kissed him to kill him. Damn wouldn't Will be SO relieved? x) Lol! Another oneshot for ya'll. I was so flattered by the quality of the reviews. Though there was only like five reviews, they really made me smile and I needed that. So I added this, another oneshot thing. Elizabeth was dreaming, if you didn't get it the first time. I just LOVE dream sequences, their so fun, cuz' I get to **crush** their dreams in any way I desire. Lol! Thanks for the reviews, people! You ROCK!

**Fun Fact: **Nassau is in the Bahamas, and during the 1600-1700's was once a wayward pirate playground that was very similar to Tortuga, except it was an actual CITY of pirates whereas Tortuga was just an island just outside Jamaica I think. Sounds fun. Port Royal was in Africa. Isn't history fun? It helps if you have a really hot New Yorkian teacher. Hehe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Two Little Birds**

In Which There Is A Better, But Rather Depressing Alternative... Don't You Think?

-

**Disclaimer:** Elizabeth Swann, William Turner, and Capt. Jack Sparrow do not belong to me. I am simply manipulating my right as a US citizen under the first amendment to otherwise sully and/or misuse the PotC mythology and characters for my own as well as others' devious pleasures. ;)

… … …

Something was wrong. Something_ had _to be wrong.

The way she shifted, the way she looked at him, and the way she smiled and laughed and loved. It was different somehow, inconspicuously altered. Strained, perhaps? He couldn't tell, he could just _feel_ it. He could feel her, feel himself pull her closer against him—as if unsure whether she would disappear or not, whether she was real or simply a vague memory in the dark spaces of his mind.

There had been a time where he had been astonished with her decision, a time wherein he had not believed her when she had said those fleeting words in the heat of battle. Even as he embraced her now—_clung _to her so that he was certain she was real—it still felt like a lie, a dazed dream he was cooped up in conjured within his thoughts for having to face the prospect of spending ten years ferrying souls before he would ever touch the living world again, even sadder since it promised merely a single day upon land. It might have well been an eternity at sea.

…

Flashes of soft blonde hair, teasing glimpses of the lush peachy cream hue of her skin beneath his battle-worn fingertips, the tender giggles that pervaded every inch of his naked flesh so that an army of gooseflesh overlapped the surface—if she truly _was_ but a memory, it was one of the very few he could enjoy.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing."

To him, nothing meant nothing. What could it mean to her? What could it mean to any woman?

She kissed his frown, assuring him, but not completely. Even that one display of affection seemed halfhearted. She felt his frown deepen against her lips, but he conceded as easily as any hot-blooded man would, responding readily, pressing his frown deeper into her plump lips, smothering them almost fiercely.

She was used to his awkward, unruly tendencies. He always tried to be rough with her, rarely gentle. Gentle was all William Turner ever gave, but she was feral to begin with so why bother? He wanted to prove something—what that something was, he wasn't quite sure of himself.

He kissed her like he wanted something out of her. A confession, perhaps. _Tell me,_ it relayed. _Tell me what I did. _

He positioned himself over her, pressing the palms of his hands along her jaw line as she coyly buried her fingers into his tousled hair, turned pitch-black from the sea. She wanted to withdraw from the embrace, he knew, felt her body shudder uncomfortably, but his grasps were firm and unyielding. He wasn't finished.

"Will—" She panted as he very briefly withdrew, allowing air for the both of them before his lips dipped over hers once more, cutting off whatever left there was to say. "_Mmmm_…"

His intentions seemed almost belligerent, as though his frustration had somehow seeped into their kiss and had turned it into something discomforting and wrong.

"William…!" She implored, gasping, unsure of whether to feel pleasure or pain. "S…stop!"

He withdrew, brows furling together, perplexed. "What is it?" He asked at last, his dark eyes piercing.

Elizabeth gazed up at him, and Will himself noticed the stiff effort she put into doing so. When their eyes met, the exchange seemed almost painful. Elizabeth looked away, her eyes near closing shut. Will disregarded the moist twinkle at the corner of her eyes, his unfathomable gaze stabbing her. His dark eyes held daggers.

He withdrew from her, almost shoving her aside, almost revolted with her. Elizabeth was all too conceding with the action, crawling away to lie huddled beneath the worn blankets from which they shared, leaving in her action's wake a discomforting gap between the two that did not bode well with William Turner.

He sat himself upright, his naked torso glowing against the setting sunlight that pervaded the seaboard from a distance. His expression was fathomless, given neither expression nor feature as he faced the horizon.

The sound of brine surf crashing, pushing, and pulling against the twinkling shoreline passed through the coast of the island, a bold intercourse with Shipwreck Cove, island and sea meeting as one in a fleeting earthly kiss. Every little thing seemed louder to him, oozing into his ears and senses much too slowly, chaotic and thorough. He couldn't think, couldn't compose himself enough to wear away the bitterness that consumed him.

"It's Him, isn't it?"

It had _always_ been Him, all along, hadn't it? Why did he, a mere blacksmith, even think that he had a chance?

Elizabeth didn't say a word, peering at him through the golden curtain of hair that surrounded her face like an aura. She looked beautiful, so painfully beautiful. William couldn't understand why looking at her as she looked at him the way she did wounded him so, why the manner of atmosphere seemed palpably sore and dismal.

"_Isn't _it?"

His throat was smoldering, suddenly arid and pruned, buckling within his neck. He swallowed, and the effort seemed so much more painful than the punctured scar that left a lingering twinge across his chest. The corner of his eyes wrenched, felt inflamed, and became suddenly unclear. It was at that very moment that he knew the answer to his own question.

Elizabeth gave him a look, graced him with her melancholic pulchritude—a look that he'd always dread, a look that confirmed his worst fears.

In the distance the sun kissed the earth with the warm colors of the evening, and William watched the fresh orange and petunia pink hues dance and shift against Elizabeth's skin, etched across her haunting features as if it were a part of her. The intensity of betrayal befell his senses, and for a fleeting moment all he could be aware of was the scorching red hatred for her, for _Him_.

And then, abruptly, across the sky a tropical bird soared against the strength of the nomadic Caribbean breeze. It flew right over him. Beneath the setting sunlight it was a mere silhouette, bloody red around the edges indicating its true complexion. It blew a haunting melody into the air, leaving mesmeric echoes in its wake, a memory of itself in that one song as it fluttered off into the impeding sunset. He felt like weeping along with the tragic bird.

In the end, he left her to watch him turn his back to her, legs pushing against the tide as he entered the water and out of her life for ten bitter years and so forth. In the end, she watched him leave without so much as a goodbye, standing stiff upon the coast of Shipwreck Cove as the _'Dutchman_ disappeared into the sunset in a flurry of surf and ripples and an enthralling emerald shaft of light.

-

**Author's Comments:** Hello there, interesting New Year we're having aren't we? I actually decided to update something! Huzzah!

Jack is mentioned in there...somewhere... This was short, but I think I got the point across quite well. Not exactly what I'm use to, but at least it's a lot…cleaner…than the first two one-shots. Heh. I've progressed. I guess that means I'm human… Damn.

_Trivia:_ This fic was loosely based on a song by John Mayer known as "Come back to Bed". I've developed a penchant for his music.


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